


way back to you

by soundingawkward



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M, time-traveller!niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundingawkward/pseuds/soundingawkward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for fill in the Ziall Ficathon (lj); Time Traveler’s Wife AU! Or something similar? I don’t know, I just want time traveler!Niall.</p><p>or; “You never missed me, not at all. Not once.” Zayn expanded, letting go of Niall’s hand as they came to a wrenching stop, the neighbourhood around Zayn looking completely different, even if they were only at the end of his street. “All those times I didn’t see you, you never even missed me one little bit.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	way back to you

**Author's Note:**

> let’s not lie; I was totally enraptured by the idea of time traveller!Niall. I don’t know anything about the Time Traveller’s Wife, but I just loved the thought of Niall appearing randomly within Zayn’s life. So, this was supposed to be a quick fill, but turned into a bit of a monster. I might come back and change a few things later, but I’m proud of this, even if it’s waving and wanning, rambling and long. That’s the way time is, isn’t it? all feed back is fully appreciated :3 send it loves, i really need it. 
> 
> Also, this is unbeta’d (of course, haha) so any mistakes are my own stupid ones.

 

i.

It’s late 2005 when Zayn’s rushing for the train home, his friends have ditched him the bastards, and he takes his eyes off the myriad of people in front of him when he crashes straight into  _him._

 

All Zayn can see as he’s helped up is a shock of blonde, playful hair and two, overly bright blue eyes that seem to carry the weight of the world. The man’s hand engulfs Zayn’s own tiny one, and it’s a little cold, but oddly comforting. As Zayn dusts himself off with his spare hand, he doesn’t let go of the man’s.

 

He’s got this strangely familiar smile, almost too big and it’s kind of blinding. Zayn actually takes a step backwards because he’s a little shocked by how stunning it is, and holy fuck this man is  _beautiful._

 

“You alright mate?” The man asks, a thick brogue dancing across his voice, his head bowed a little as he smiles again, a little less blinding and a little more comforting; like he’s just wrapped Zayn up in a hug and honestly, Zayn’s not sure if that’s any better. That smile’s making his stomach flutter and jolt, just as much as the other one.

“Yeah,” Zayn says, a little dazedly, stumbling a little and then realising that he’s still holding onto the man’s hand. Blushing furiously, Zayn lets go, his own hand falling uselessly and empty by his side. The man laughs, throwing his head back and it’s a melodious noise, the soft, silky skin of his throat moving.

 

“It was nice meeting you, Zayn.” There’s still laughter playing at the edges of his voice as the man grins, and then he just seems to disappear into the crowd, a memory upon the warmth of Zayn’s hand.

“You too.” Zayn says to the vacant air, and the thought that he doesn’t know the man’s name is more disturbing than the thought that he never told the man his own name.

 

 

ii.

Sometime, during the summer of 2008, Zayn finds himself bored shitless as his family thinks it’s a good idea to take him on a long, uninteresting family vacation to what must be the most unused beach in the entire world. Zayn loves his family, he really does, and this beach is truly beautiful, but it’s lonesome and Zayn’s missing out on so many social things it’s not funny.

 

There’s an older, nice boy with plain brown hair that works down at the deli, and that’s where Zayn finds himself most days, unless he’s at the beach, sitting at the counter, swinging his legs as he annoys Liam as he works. Sometimes, if he’s bored enough he helps to carry boxes around, knowing that later that night he’ll curse Liam because of the strain of his back and stomach. Generally, though, he just talks to Liam, his initial shyness gone after the boy laughed at one of his lame jokes, and they’ve forged a sturdy friendship.

 

When Liam’s out the back, kicking the ice machine in frustration or supervising the freight being dropped off, Zayn takes over the looking after the shop; serving any stray customer that happens to get lost and find themselves within. There’s often an odd local that visits, but they know the shop better than Zayn does and that makes him feel a little useless, but they’re always nice enough to actually hand him the money, rather than just place it in the till.

 

It’s hot, too hot for anyone to cope and Zayn’s fanning himself with a sheet of concertina folded piece of yesterday’s newspaper and the bell to the front door rings pathetically. There’s the tell-tale soft thud of someone’s shoes scuffing across the floor and by the sounds of it, they’re heading towards the ice-creams up in the left hand of the store. Liam smiles lazily, slumping forwards over the counter and snatches Zayn’s makeshift fan.

 

Laughing, Zayn goes to snatch it back, and that sufficiently distracts him enough so that he doesn’t see the customer walk up to get served. An ice-cream is placed next to Zayn, and Liam lets Zayn steal his fan back, turning to the till and punching numbers in. Nicely, Zayn smiles and looks up, hoping to start up a conversation with the customer; it’s good for custom. Zayn opens his mouth, and then his eyes land upon a pair of bright, world-weary ones and he just sucks in a gasp, because fuck, they’re so blue.

 

And, well, the man looks exactly the same.

 

His hair’s still that shock of tousled blonde, smile still so perfect and blinding, and Zayn drops his fan because his hand is lightly cold, as if  _remembers_  when it had been within those long, slender fingered ones opening up a tacky old wallet. The man grins, and again, the familiarity is like a slap to Zayn’s face, stinging his cheek and leaving a mark.

 

“Oh, hello again stranger.” The man chuckles, like it’s purely a coincidence and suddenly Zayn’s not so sure it really is one, handing over a note to pay for his ice-cream and Zayn can only nod like an idiot.  He feels himself blush as the man winks at him, and Liam’s staring curiously like he’s waiting for an explanation.

“Uh,” Zayn clears his throat, “Yeah, it’s been a while…” he wants to tack on the amount of time; he could probably say exactly how much time it’s been in hours, but he doesn’t want to sound lame so he doesn’t say anything.

 

The man laughs, and Zayn has the presence of mind to glance back over at Liam because he knows, oh he _knows_  what that silky, soft throat looks like as the giggles escape up it, pouring up into his mouth and curling around his pinks lips like smoke. Liam cocks an eyebrow at Zayn, questioning him, but Zayn doesn’t know what to say and just shrugs like it’s a perfectly good answer, shoulders rolling lazily. They tense up, though, the man’s cold fingers rest upon the bare skin, and that smaller, fonder smile is like a punch to Zayn’s gut, winding him.

 

“I didn’t tell you my name,” the man frowns, chewing gently on his lip and his fingers upon Zayn’s shoulder move a little, like he’s stroking in short jerks along the tanned skin, “That was rather stupid of me, I’m Niall.”

“Niall…” Zayn tries the name, and although it sounds different as his accent wraps around the words, but it still is wonderful and he’s so glad to put a name to the face. Niall grins too, and his hand drops away, coldness sticking to Zayn’s sweaty skin and then picks up his ice-cream.

 

“Well, it was nice seeing you again, see you around, soon?” And although it’s posed like a question, Zayn’s not sure Niall means it as one and he nods, causing that blinding smile to skip upon Niall’s lips. “It was nice meeting you too, Liam.” Niall nods and then, it’s like he aspirates rather than walks out the door; disappearing quickly.

 

It’s only much later, when Zayn’s helping Liam to lock up that Liam stops what he’s doing and turns to Zayn, mouth open wide. “Your friend; Niall,” He states, like Zayn knows Niall well, “How’d he know my name?”

“That’s just Niall.” Zayn offers blankly, it’s the best excuse he’s got and shrugs, “Maybe you had a nametag on earlier.” And Liam nods, agreeing although he’s never worn a nametag in his life.

 

**

When Liam’s not working at the deli, there’s a fussy old lady in there and she seems to stereotype Zayn into some troubling making, loitering youth. Zayn’s already a bit strange, so he doesn’t need any stereotypes tacked onto him, so he steers clear. When Liam’s not around, the beach is his only refuge.

 

It’s a cove, although large and that horseshoe shape can only been seen aerially, and Zayn loses time easily as he walks. The soles of his feet have been burnt too much from the smoking hot sand, so he doesn’t feel it anymore as he tramples on, adjusting his snapback again. Most of the time when he’s walking, Zayn doesn’t pay attention; just lets his feet carry him towards the closet shade, sitting upon the sand in the dappled light to drift off and sleep away the time.

 

There’s a laugh, and it startles Zayn out of his dozing, mainly because it’s loud but mostly because he  _knows_ that laugh, he can almost see the way the silky skin stretches over the pale throat. And then, he actually can; Niall’s walking down the beach with a small dog yapping loudly and chasing the waves. The strange thing is, Niall’s in the exact same clothes he was wearing the day Zayn saw him in the store with Liam, and there’s an ice-cream in his hand, same brand he bought that day too.

 

“Hey, Zayn!” Niall’s voice dances over, through the heat waves and lazily Zayn waves, it’s way too hot for him to be dealing with that ridiculously perfect smile. “Long time, no see.” He teases, like he just saw Zayn and Zayn looks at him confusedly, that meeting had been weeks ago. Niall looks momentarily baffled, and then lets out a short bark of laughter. “Sorry, I made that seem like I just saw you. Never mind.”

 

“Well, hey?” Zayn asks, and Niall grins at him and fuck, he really needs his sun glasses on for when Niall does that.

“Mind if I sit down?” Niall smiles, softer but still as breathtaking as the other one, and Zayn can only nod hurriedly, hoping not to come off too eager, but knowing that’s an impossibility because he’s practically grinning like an idiot back.

 

They slip into conversation like a professional diver into water; slick and with hardly any slash or disturbance. Niall’s too engaged in talking about that stars, and how many are mostly like dead and it’s all about the  _timing_  that his ice-cream melts onto his hand. Laughing, and complaining that it’ll be sticky, he licks it up; pink tongue lapping at the pale skin and Zayn feels sick, but in a strangely good kind of way. And whatever the fuck Niall’s doing to his insides, well he better stop because Zayn’s going to burst.

 

Niall looks at his watch as finishes the last of his ice-cream and a string of cuss words leaves his mouth. “Well,” He says apologetically to Zayn, tapping him on his chin. “I must be off, already spent my time up with you.” And by off, Niall means off, gone, completely. Zayn smiles, and waves although Niall’s already gone and his chin feels deliciously cold.

 

 

iii.

During 2010, Zayn starts to question his sexuality. He knows he probably should have realised he wasn’t exclusively interested in girls – not with the way the strange blonde, Niall, makes his stomach whir – but one interest in one incredibly beautiful man doesn’t make a guy gay in anyway.

 

But, two, well that’s different.

 

Harry’s delicately pretty too, it’s kind of similar to Niall; the way they both are so innocent and pale, how Harry’s smile tries to blind Zayn too and Harry’s eyes sparkle in a parallel way. Zayn admires from afar, just like normal, and he lives for the moments where Harry glances over at him, a tiny smile upon his lips that doesn’t quite make Zayn’s stomach twist like Niall’s does, but it’s close enough.

 

Zayn’s heart stutters when Harry asks him on a date, and he’s a bit of a bumbling fool and that idiotic grin he usually saves for Niall slips upon his lips as he says yes. Harry looks  _relived_ , which only calms Zayn’s nerves because at least he knows Harry’s not having him on and he can sleep easy knowing he’s not being made a fool of.

 

The date goes well, Harry’s charming and pretty and Zayn just admires him and his voice stutters as Harry directly asks him questions. But, most of the Harry just talks about himself; which even though there’s this crush that Zayn has upon him, it’s a bit much for him. There’s a couple of awkward pauses, where it feels like Zayn should fill in the space, but he doesn’t know what to say and just lets Harry ramble on about himself.

 

They don’t kiss as Harry drops Zayn home, or at least, it’s not a real kiss, merely a press of those sinful lips against Zayn’s cheek, ‘thank you’s and ‘let’s do this again sometimes’. Zayn’s not been on enough dates to know whether that goodbye is good or not, and hey, he’s never really been on this side of it all before so he doesn’t know what to think. It seems good, and Zayn smiles as he goes to bed.

 

That night, he dreams of Niall.

 

**

Zayn’s late the next day for school, and none of his family is home to wake him up. The sun is what wakes him, and hurriedly he tries to get ready, stuffing a few textbooks into his backpack and with his uniform haphazardly on he rushes out the house, biting into his unbuttered toast.

 

It’s just his luck, that there’s a car crash on the end of his street, and everything’s blocked off so Zayn has to take a detour. Frowning, Zayn realises he’s going to be fucking late anyway, so he stops off at a coffee shop on the way there. It’s warm inside, and he sighs as the soft smell of roasting coffee beans hits his nostrils. It’s comforting, and he orders a mocha, waiting by the pick area patiently when he hears it; that laugh.

 

Turning, Zayn takes a step back as his eyes land on Niall; looking  _exactly_ the same as he remembers him; hair styled the same way, smiling in that exact same way as a pretty girl places a plate of cake upon the table in front of him. Niall looks up, and he sends that tiny, fond smile towards Zayn and gives a tiny head movement before looking back up at the brunette waitress.

 

Once Zayn’s got his order he makes his way over to Niall’s table, popping his bag down upon the ground and his coffee onto the table. The smile he receives from Niall is that blinding one that makes his stomach whir more than Harry’s dimples. Niall grins once more at the waitress, “It was nice seeing you Cher,” and Zayn decides that Niall’s awfully fond of that phrase. The waitress – Cher – smiles at Zayn too, nodding like she knows who he is too, and like Niall’s been waiting for him. And honestly, with Niall, Zayn wouldn’t be that surprised if that was true.

 

Carefully, Zayn inspects Niall, and yeah, he looks no different and definitely no older than the last time he’d seen the man, two years ago, and before that, when he was only twelve. Niall’s timeless, and Zayn wonders for a second if Niall’s just a figment of his imagination; that he’s only thinking up the way Niall’s fork clinks against the plate, be decides that it couldn’t possibly be. His mind could never come up with something as beautiful as the boy in front of him.

 

“Long time, no see.” Niall says, and surely, Zayn thinks, that if this wasn’t real that he could come up with more original phrases. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too.” Zayn replies automatically, without properly hearing what Niall’s said nor processed it and it makes him blush. And, if he’s honest, it’s kind of true. Niall’s grin lights up the whole café and Zayn supposes that’s worth his embarrassment.

 

They fall into conversation like they’ve fallen into this strange friendship, easily and there are no awkward pauses like there was with Harry. Come to think of it, Zayn notices, if he hadn’t compared the two people, Harry wouldn’t be anywhere in his mind. There’s an easiness to the whole thing, that Zayn didn’t have with Harry and if he’s being frank he likes the way Niall’s hands wave emotively describing how there’s a type of frog that has anti-freeze in its blood. And Zayn laughs, because it’s so Niall and he’s saying what he’s thinking before he’s really processing what comes out of his mind; “It’s like freezing time…”

 

Niall freezes himself, just for a moment and Zayn wonders if he’s said the wrong thing before Niall’s laughing; throat sliding the noises out. The thought that he made  _that_  laugh spill forth has Zayn’s cheeks pinking up, but he’s so happy he could easily burst this time and the butterflies within his stomach agree wholeheartedly.

 

“Yeah.” Niall agrees, smiling wistfully and Zayn’s not seen that smile yet, but it’s perfect too, stomaching churning, and he wonders if there’s any other smiles he hasn’t seen. He hopes he gets to see them soon. “It’s just like freezing time, you know, time’s an interesting thing.” And then, Niall’s off, much like he often is when he can relate anything to time, which definitely seems to be his favourite topic and Zayn wonders if Niall can freeze time like the frog.

 

By the end of the conversation, Zayn’s convinced that it’s not that Niall freezes time, it’s that he walks through it as easily as Zayn walks through wet grass on an early morning.

 

It’s not until Zayn’s phone buzzes and he’s got a text from his mother saying that the school’s called her and said that he’s not at school that he realises the time. It’s late, much later than he originally thought, and apologetically towards Niall takes a phone call. Zayn’s mother is understanding, even if Zayn lies a little about being ill, but not realising the time is true. As Zayn hangs up, Niall offers to walk Zayn home, and there’s no possible way that Zayn can say no. He’d be a fool to say no.

 

When Zayn turns at his door, school bag now dumped on the porch that he realises he’s just basically been on a date with Niall, and even if it wasn’t one he enjoyed it so much more than he did with Harry. Feeling a little guilty at that, especially if this was all just coffee with a friend, Zayn’s goodbye is a little awkward and Niall’s smile is perfect. There’s a moment, where Niall’s cold fingers curl at Zayn’s chin, thumb tracing up and over until he’s brushing gently over Zayn’s cheekbone. To Zayn, it feels like he can see or at least understand the world from staring into Niall’s clear blue eyes.

 

Slowly, so slowly, like time’s slowed down, Niall leans in and just as Zayn’s eyelids flutter shut he sees Niall’s do so too, eyelashes creating patterns upon his pale skin. Niall’s lips are soft and taste a little like the pastries he was eating at the coffee shop. It’s only a chaste kiss, really, mouths barely opening before Niall’s pulling back and for a moment Zayn wonders if he’s got bad breathe, but Niall pecks his lips once more.

 

“See you around, babe.” Niall whispers, dropping his fingers from Zayn’s cheek bones and presses one more, longer kiss to Zayn’s lips, their tongues meeting briefly and then he’s gone, disappearing like normal. Zayn rests his fingertips upon his lips and it’s like he can still feel Niall’s lips there, and there’s the ghost of where his fingers where against Zayn’s cheek.

 

It’s only later, when Zayn’s smiling at his ceiling, trying to sleep, that he realises he feels giddier about Niall’s kiss than his first one.

 

 

iv.

Niall’s visits become more constant. There’s still time between the visits, but it’s not like years fly by like before. He shows up more, smile at the ready and laughter just as raucous as normal. On occasions he walks Zayn home, or shows up at the supermarket where Zayn’s trying to shop with his mother.

 

They talk a lot; Niall describes things that Zayn’s not sure he could ever comprehend, hands waving madly as he talks, smile upon his lips. Zayn mostly listens, enjoying the way Niall’s face lights up and his voice runs away with himself, sometimes slipping into foreign sounding languages, and Zayn would stumble over the words, trying to understand. Niall listens too, when Zayn had something to say, and no matter what it was, nor how trivial Niall held a fascination for whatever Zayn was speaking.

 

There were lots of kisses.

 

Stolen ones, in supermarket isles when Zayn’s family would turn into the next isle and Niall’s lips would press against Zayn’s. Quick hello pecks as Zayn’d sit down at Niall’s regular table in the coffee shop. Lingering kisses as they stood at Zayn’s front door, in a sort of intimate goodbye. Sometimes, when Niall’d sneak into Zayn’s room, although half the time Zayn wasn’t sure how Niall got  _in_ , they’d share longer, playful kisses, tongues dancing. Often, Niall would be sitting against the headboard, and Zayn would rest within his lap, exploring each other’s mouth in a soft press of lips, a slight velvety movement.

 

Niall always seemed to be the same age, a blonde sort of Dorian Gray, but Zayn grew older, grew bigger. It delighted Zayn that Niall still talked the same way, treated him the same way; it made him feel like Niall’s equal, like he was important in someone’s eyes. Niall didn’t even act like he noticed until Zayn was basically towering over him, and Zayn was the one doing the manhandling and moving around. And he seemed to like that too, when Zayn’d pull Niall into his lap to kiss, or move him.

 

Niall’s fingers were deft and light and they traced secret patterns over Zayn’s skin, making him shiver and whimper under the touch. They explored the expanse of Zayn’s chest, Niall’s lips often joined in. Niall was responsive too, when Zayn copied the actions; studying the pale skin and the way the flush would travel down Niall’s neck.

 

Sometimes, Niall would just appear for no reason other than physical comfort. They’d talk, they always talk because they loved the sound of each other’s voices, but Niall would just wrap his arms around Zayn and cuddle. Zayn would tangle his arms around Niall, pulling him closer and they’d reveal in each other’s warmth. Niall was a little like an octopus at times, managing to cuddle Zayn at any time, and Zayn would secretly smile and hug Niall closer. Other than on Zayn’s bed, Niall favourite place to cuddle was upon Zayn’s window ledge, with Zayn leaning against the wall and Niall curled up in his lap. They’d sit there for hours, staring out the window, and Niall would carry on about the stars and time and Zayn would listen, still stuck in the thought that Niall knew  _everything_ about the stars, about time.

 

Zayn didn’t want this to ever end.

 

 

v.

Sometime in 2012, after a longer period of Niall not visiting, Zayn meets Louis. He is pretty and raucous, he makes Zayn laugh like Niall did. Honestly, he told himself, it wasn’t like he and Niall were  _dating_ , they just acted like a couple. And Zayn was curious.

 

It wasn’t like with Niall they’d done  _anything_  other than kissing, and the thought that perhaps kissing boys was just like kissing girls niggled in the back of his mind. Sure, he could pick out that he was physically attracted to males also, but other than Niall, it wasn’t like he’d done anything with anyone. And Zayn was really, really curious. It was driving him crazy.

 

Louis almost reminded Zayn of Niall in some ways; the way he laughed, his delicate features, his awful sense of humour. Sure, maybe Zayn could see Niall within Louis, but that wasn’t something to be judged, maybe that just was his type. Did he even have a type? But, that was the point, with Louis he was going to find out those kind of things, and Louis  _knew_ that. He smiled when Zayn brought it up, blushing like fool and then apologising for making the kissing awkward. His eyes crinkled kindly when he had agreed to let Zayn try things out with him.

 

It started with little things.

 

Louis’ fingers were quick and they plucked off clothing faster than Zayn thought was possible. They explored his skin; much like Niall’s had but a little clumsier, and they whispered over skin that Niall had never touched. The thought made him a little sad, and for a moment he’d wonder if Niall would ever come back to try before remembering that he should be concentrating on Louis.

 

Hands were just hands, they had no gender, and although Louis’ were rougher than a girl there was the possibility that it was all just the same. But, there was no denying at the way they moved, up and down Zayn’s length, twisting slightly, stroking and massaging him into a shivering mess, pulling orgasms out of him. Although initially it was a little weird – the angle was different, Louis’ dick was smaller, and their bodies would be pressed up against one another – it was a little like wanking himself and a rhythm was easy to fall into.

 

Louis was patient, and for that Zayn thanked him a thousand times over, and he took everything at Zayn’s pace. Although the pleasure bubbled within his bones, sometimes it felt a little instructional. To that Zayn told Louis, told him that he wanted to enjoy, and wanted Lou to enjoy too. Zayn couldn’t forget the sad smile upon Louis’ face when he murmured something about Zayn being distracted, like Zayn had someone else on his mind. With his cheeks flushing, and thoughts of Niall littering into his mind, Zayn had apologised and just asked to cuddle.

 

Having Louis underneath him, squirming in the most pleasant of ways, as he curled his fingers deep within, made Zayn flush too. In this light, Louis was more beautiful than ever, and Zayn felt a little confused. This was perfect, the way Louis reacted and panted his name as he stroked Louis’ prostate, but somehow he felt like he was using Louis. Which, to some degree he was, he had to admit that, but it made him feel a little selfish. Louis was stunningly gorgeous, and he deserved someone who loved him with every fibre of their being, not Zayn. He deserved better.

 

Later, when Louis had pulled Zayn in for cuddling, their come drying upon each other, Zayn mentioned that to him, and Louis had laughed. They were young, Louis had said, and there was time for experimenting before there was undying love. Louis sounded sappy, and honestly that didn’t really make Zayn feel any better about it all. Louis really deserved someone who cared more. Someone who wasn’t pining after someone else; someone who wasn’t Zayn, who didn’t pray for the day Niall’d show up out of the blue again.

 

**

Zayn’s enjoying a chamomile tea in that coffee shop when he feels a heavier presence walk into the shop. He ignores it, turning the page in his book. As slow, long steps continue towards him, Zayn just takes another sip of his tea. When, the person sits down opposite him, Zayn finally decides to acknowledge them and his heart does this weird little jump, up into his throat. Niall’s smile blinds him, and his own lips trail up into a too large, too happy idiotic grin.

 

He doesn’t even look any different, still time-swept and gloriously beautiful.

 

For a few moments, they sit there, staring at one another over the table, over Zayn’s book and Niall’s hand rests on the table, tiny wrist and pale, long fingers. Closing his book, Zayn props it down next to his tea and his own fingers sliding themselves over to Niall’s, their skin tones melding together as their fingers do. Niall’s hand is comfortingly familiar, soft skin but calloused finger tips and slightly cold to touch.  

Zayn guesses that they’re about the same age now, and for some reason, it feels like that was the thing that Niall’s been waiting for all along.

 

 

**

As Niall meets Louis he’s got this pained look on his face. He’s pleasant enough, and Louis just seems to  _know_ that this is the person Zayn’s been pining over, and they get on surprisingly well, but it’s in the air. Niall doesn’t even need to be told that Zayn’s been experimenting, just guesses it, just laughs along as Louis tells a couple of funny anecdotes. He’s very calm, but it’s obvious Louis’ grates a little on his nerves. Zayn doesn’t prolong the visit, doesn’t want this whole thing to get awkward in case someone says something wrong, he’s so thankful that Louis just understands what’s going on here.

 

Niall makes a decidedly sour face when Zayn asks him to wait in the car, but does as he’s told. No matter what happens, Zayn doesn’t what to fuck up what he had with Louis, and maybe it was only a friends with benefits type thing but he doesn’t want to leave on a bad note. It almost hurts how  _understanding_ Louis all is, with just about everything. There’s a big hug, and a stupid Louis joke, “I never got to top, babe, that’s a bit of a disappointment.” And Zayn doesn’t know how Louis could possibly know that this is over, Zayn doesn’t even know, but he looks back at the car, back at the beautiful blonde waiting for him.

 

And when’s Niall ever waited for him? It’s always been Zayn waiting for Niall…

 

“I love you,” He murmurs into Louis’ ear as he hugs the man one last time, and Louis snuffles into his shoulder, like he’s trying to hold back tears.

“I love you too,” Louis whispers back, “Don’t worry so much about me. I’ll get my happy ending too, and honestly, there’s this hunk that works in a beachside deli in this little known town. Going to try some fishing, wish me luck?”

“Good luck,” Zayn smiles fondly, “Be careful with Li.” He cautions, and Louis nods before raising a questioning eyebrow, but lets Zayn walk down the steps at the front of the house, and another one of those final feelings settles in his stomach. He won’t be walking up those steps anymore.

 

Niall’s quite when Zayn slips into the car, and doesn’t say anything as they move out of Louis’ drive way. It’s not like he’s furious and fuming, nor is he giving Zayn the silent treatment, but there’s something there, and it nibbles away at Zayn until he’s begging to know what’s exactly got Niall all worked up.

“Niall?”

 

Zayn’s voice cracked a little, somewhere between the i and the a, but as he glanced over at Niall, there was a tiny smile. That felt good, felt welcoming and pleasing. Niall looked a lot happier now, too, especially seeing as that persistent frown was gone from his brow. Getting away from Louis cheered him up a little, even if the two had gotten along, or at least, seemingly had gotten along.

 

“Mhmm?” Niall mumbles out, like he’s just woken up from a really long sleep, and he just wants to snuggle back down into the covers. Zayn smiles.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, wanting to reach out and put his hand over Niall’s, but knowing he can’t and it’s a little painful in all.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Niall murmurs, leaning back into the car seat, snuggling down and Zayn sighs because he _knows_  Niall, like he’s never known anyone before and he knows he’s lying.

“If you don’t like Louis, you can just say so.” Zayn whispers, because he’s not sure where all this confidence has drained away from, and it’s like if he says something wrong something will break because he doesn’t feel like anyone’s ever trusted him this much before.

“Louis’ a nice bloke.” Niall mutters and it sounds like he’s saying the truth, but there’s still something wrong, and fuck Niall, but Zayn really cares. And, he’s not going to stop until he knows what is wrong.

“That’s the problem, huh?” Zayn ventures slowly, gently and Niall’s head snaps up, not angrily, not surprised but just up so he’s staring at Zayn with this intensity that’s painfully wonderful, and Zayn has to pull the car over and park it.

 

“I don’t like the thought of you having sex with him.” Niall admits, and his voice is low and soft, barely above a whisper, but so loud in the car it almost echoes, “And I know he didn’t, he didn’t  _top_  but I don’t like the idea that he was your first guy.” And Zayn sighs, in thankfulness, basically because that’s just it, there’s nothing much to it and the thought makes him kind of fizz with happiness.

“You’re jealous.” He states, and barely hides the grin upon his lips. Niall looks unimpressed, but he nods slowly.

“Maybe.” He supplies, not giving into Zayn’s statement, but just enough so Zayn knows that Niall  _was_  and that is just enough for Zayn to make his heart swell and soar and all those cliché things he’s heard about.

 

“Louis’ was good to me.” Zayn says, like it’ll help Niall’s jealousy in some way, as if by Louis being a good person would change things, and honestly he wishes he didn’t say anything. There’s a more likely chance of it making things worse, but Niall just shrugs.

“You don’t love him. He doesn’t love you. He deserves someone who does.” Niall replies, like it’s a secret, and Zayn feels a little hurt, even though he knew he didn’t love Louis like that, and well, what about him? Was it only just Louis that needed someone to love him?

“And what about me?” Zayn whispers, looking a little down, gulping painfully, waiting for Niall’s response. That soft, small smile that could easily kill Zayn lights up Niall’s face, and it’s so fond it hurts.

 

“ _I_  love you.”

 

 

vi.

Niall darts in and darts out of Zayn’s life a little, like it’s his personal job, but this time there’s not a day without Niall being there in some way. Sometimes, they just have a tea at the café, or others they sit in Zayn’s windowsill, kissing softly. Niall sings, and his voice sounds so perfect weaving in around Zayn’s that it kind of hurts Zayn the way he fits, into the melodies, into Zayn’s life.

 

Zayn’s family aren’t even  _surprised_  when Niall shows up one morning for breakfast, and his mother even chats to Niall like they know each other. Zayn’s sisters make a show of hanging off of Niall’s every word, blushing when he speaks to them and just having general crush on him. It’s a little annoying, but later on, when they’re curled up in bed Niall snuggles closer and tells Zayn little, irrelevant things that no one should really care about, but Niall does, and Zayn does, because Niall doesn’t tell anyone else. 

 

*

There are days that no one opens Zayn’s door and comes yelling for the boys to get up, nor is there anyone there and Niall’s hands are good at wandering. He kisses Zayn’s body, blooming marks and pulling out groans like he’s making up for the lost time and the competition of Louis. It’s silly, because Niall is  _Niall_ and that’s completely different to Louis, so there’s no contest, but Niall’s vivid jealousy drives him and it makes Zayn feel like he’s worth being fought over. Like he’s special and he’s worth something, and Niall smiles at him, like the blonde’s lost in the wonder that is Zayn, and Zayn wants to scream to the world that Niall is everything, he’s perfect.

 

Niall’s hands are in fact magic, and they rub and caress and massage Zayn into a whimpering mess, pulling involuntary noises out his lips. He causes Zayn’s hips to jerk without purpose too, tugging whines and orgasms out of Zayn, peppering kisses on any part of Zayn’s body that Niall can reach. Zayn returns the favour, despite Niall mumbling that it’s always about Zayn, and watching the blonde unravel, sweat causing a light sheen on his pale body, Zayn wants to never leave his bed, and continue feeling like this. Like he’s important, like he’s loved and blissfully everything is perfect. And, as Niall’s lazy, soft smile dances across his lips he pulls Zayn down, for kisses and cuddling, and Zayn’s not sure, but he kind of loves these moments just as much, when all there is, is him and Niall, curled together.

 

*

When Niall’s tired and all rugged up, be it in bed or on the couch when it’s just them, watching a movie, he gets a little clingy and his slight oral fascination creeps up on him. Zayn can hardly dose off in a movie anymore because Niall’s there, in his arms, taking up his space and pressing short, sweet kisses to Zayn’s lips. They’re comforting, and Niall gets his concentrating look on his face that’s completely beyond adorable as he stares at Zayn’s lips, like he’s contemplating on where to start the press of lips. Normally, there’s a quick kiss that lands on the corner of Zayn’s mouth, before Niall gets closer and closer to the right angle and he nibbles at Zayn’s lips, tongue dancing softly over the pink skin and it sends shivers down Zayn’s spine. When Niall’s tired, he likes soft, lazy kisses that tickle along Zayn’s lips, and they’re short but continual, lips pressing together over and over. Zayn loves every type of Niall’s kisses, but he thinks at times these ones are some of the best.

 

*

Niall gets angry when Zayn uses up all the hot water, and an angry Niall is probably one of the cutest things Zayn’s ever seen. He doesn’t coo, because that would be condescending, but he does love it, and when the next time Zayn gets to the shower first Niall just walks straight into the bathroom, slips off his clothes and joins him in the shower. Zayn doesn’t notice, not until there’s a warm body pressed up against him, and the feel of Niall’s lips upon his shoulder. Zayn decides he likes showering with Niall, it’s another of those lazy, sweet moments he never wants to forget; soapy loofahs sponging over each other, soft, slippery skin, muscles shifting and bodies tangling.

 

At some point, in the shower, the soft trail of lips turns into kisses more heated than the water pouring down around them, and then there’s rocking of hips. Zayn’s hands slip around Niall’s ass, cupping his cheeks and lift him up, tearing gasps out of both their lips as Niall’s cock grazes just at the base of Zayn’s. Niall pushes down, pulling out more moans, and slowly he works them both to hardness with a wicked little twist of his flexible hips. Zayn grinds up a little, head buried into Niall’s shoulder, lips planting kisses and little, teasing bites to the skin and then props Niall against the shower wall, causing a gasp as the tiled wall is  _cold_. There’s a mutual look in their eyes, watching each other, pupils blown almost completely black as Zayn’s finger trails slowly at Niall’s hole, slipping in softly. Zayn works Niall open with his fingers, adding second one when he’s certain Niall’s ready. Niall makes little whines, telling Zayn to hurry up, and that he’s fine, which in all honesty he is, but Zayn always wants to be gentle with Niall, so he takes his time.

 

It makes Niall blush, the way Zayn’s so careful and loving, and as their lips press together, Zayn still stretching him, Niall tells him against their lips. Whispers “I love you” over and over, and although mumbled, he knows Zayn kind of understands, knows they have this  _connection_  that can’t be explained. Zayn moves back a little to angle Niall’s hips better, stretching him farther, just to make sure, and slowly inches in. Niall gets impatient, and Zayn knows he’s never one to wait, but he does for Zayn, and they take it at the pace Zayn’s comfortable with, which consists of making sure he’s not hurting Niall in anyway. But, Niall’s already rocking, hips pushing down and Zayn would make a snarky little comment about how much Niall’s aching for his cock, that he should make him beg, but as Niall moves, head against the titled wall, mouth parted and water running over his pale, flushed skin he’s too caught up in how beautiful Niall looks. He’s tight, he’s always tight, and Zayn doesn’t hold back the moan that is aching to slip out his lips, pressing kisses into Niall’s flushed chest, murmuring sweet nothings to him as his hips snap upwards in a deadly rhythm.

 

Water catches on Niall’s eyelashes, sprinkling along them, and Zayn’s never seen anything more beautiful.

 

*

Sometimes, Zayn will wake in the middle of the night, and as he stumbles downstairs to get a glass of water, he’ll stop in the kitchen and Niall will be sitting there on the bench top, bowl of mac and cheese in his hands. He’ll look up, smiling softly at Zayn’s confused and sleepy face, before spooning up some and blowing upon it, cooling down the hot pasta and cheese, and then hold it out, offering Zayn some. Zayn stumbles forwards, ending up leaning in between Niall’s legs and eats the presented food off the spoon. Somehow, it always seems to end up with Zayn’s too long sleeves spilling over his hands, leaning into the bench either side of Niall, sharing kisses in between mouthfuls of the glorious mac and cheese, and Zayn’s not sure he’d want it any other way.

 

Niall’s fascinated by the way that his hands fit into Zayn’s. He tries not to make a big deal about it, but Zayn notices the way he securely locks their fingers together, inspecting their hands and holding on tightly. Sometimes, Niall guess curls their pinky fingers together, swinging their hands between them. It makes Zayn smile, and he lets Niall grab his hand whenever they have the chance, twining their fingers together in some fashion. When Zayn’s feeling really brave, he’s the one to reach out and take Niall’s hand in his, tugging the blonde closer and he pretends he doesn’t see the identical, giant, goofy smile appear on Niall’s lips like he knows it does on his.

 

 

*

It’s a little weird, but sometimes Zayn feels like he’s in Niall’s head, or vice versa, and they make decisions without saying anything. And honestly, Zayn’s been ready, so ready for it, has been ever since being with Louis, but Niall’s been avoiding the question, smiling so bright that Zayn momentarily forgets what he’s thinking. It’s not that Niall doesn’t want it, his jealousy at the thought that Louis might have topped Zayn makes his cheeks flush, lips pursue and eyes narrow, and honestly, that’s a little scary, but he seems to waiting for something. To Zayn, it’s almost like there’s a sign in the stars that Niall’s so desperately waiting for, watching the night sky avidly, and maybe that’s not necessarily true, but somehow when it’s time, or Niall knows, Zayn does too. He’s sitting at the family dinner table, stabbing an unfortunate piece of broccoli when he just  _knows_ and he flushes bright red, much to the amusement of his younger sisters. They badger him about it, questioning what could make those cheeks flush, but it just chokes him up even more.

 

Niall follows Zayn’s lead, as he curls over the top of the boy, taking everything slowly; small, soft, liberally lubed-up motions, that are over a touch too careful for Zayn’s liking. When he goes to say something, there’s this completely scary look upon Niall’s face, and Zayn backs down, groans spilling out his lips as Niall’s fingers twist.

“Is this okay?” Niall’s words are barely breathed out, hardly loud enough to be heard, but Zayn’s nodding furiously, desperate for Niall to continue. A tiny, breathless smile appears upon Niall’s lips, achingly fond and Zayn thinks his heart stops for a minute. He reaches up, to taste that smile, and as they kiss that smile still plays along Niall’s lips, hot mouths working together.

“Better than okay,” Zayn gets out, words against Niall’s lips, and Niall’s smile lights up even more, and his fingers twist again, grazing against Zayn’s prostate, tearing out a long, involuntary moan. “Much, much better than just okay.”

 

Niall adds in another finger, so slow that it’s merely a tease, and Zayn chokes up, cussing at the way it feels. Now, he knows how Niall is when he’s this patient and caring, and god, it’s almost torture, the way he feels.

 

Niall pulls away from his kissed reddened lips, nuzzling into the dip of Zayn’s collar bone, licking up the sweat already residing there, pressing kisses to the skin, and whispering something so low Zayn can’t hear. Niall’s fingers twist and scissor, as he presses his lips into Zayn’s skin, the muttered “I love you” repeated over and over, and even though Zayn’s straining his hearing to listen, Niall knows he understands despite not hearing.

“Still okay?” Niall’s asking, before Zayn’s even realised the fingers are gone, and he’s pushing back on nothing, which draws out a frustrated little grin, but also a hurried nod, just in case Niall thought that noise was a negative. Niall rocks back onto his knees, smiling softly again, and stroking Zayn’s thigh, spreading his legs with one hand, and stroking himself into hardness with the other. Zayn can’t take his eyes off the sight in front of him, spreading his legs until the strain hurts, desperate little whimpers leaving his throat.

“Are you sure?” Niall asks, as if the way Zayn’s acting and responding isn’t an answer enough, and Zayn drags him back down for a strong, fierce kiss to show just how sure Zayn is about this all. Niall grabs Zayn’s hips, lifting them upwards slowly.

“Yes, god, Niall –” Zayn groans out, and Niall peppers kisses down Zayn’s chest, and then another groan leaves Zayn’s lips as Niall’s sinking in, head pushing so slowly, until Zayn grinds back on him, pushing Niall in farther. There’s a mutual groan, and hips start to move together, a gentle rock and soft movement.

 

Zayn looks up, to Niall and his blue rimmed pupils, sweat clinging to his body, moving and making Zayn gasp and squirm like no one else ever has, and thinks, maybe Niall’s even more beautiful above him. He seems to have said it out loud, because as Niall’s moving, caressing, fingers soft and caring, making him groan, he pants out a “no, Zayn’s more beautiful, so much more beautiful” and Zayn’s never felt so loved in his life.

 

*

“Zayn?” Niall asks one time as they’re lying in Zayn’s windowsill, looking out into the night sky, Niall sprawled into Zayn’s lap and Zayn looks down, brushing Niall’s blonde locks off his forehead, “If you could run away, well it’s not really running away, but if you could go anywhere, at any time and it wouldn’t matter much because you’d always be back in time for tea, would you?”

Zayn ponders the question for a few moments, wondering where that’s come from before he shrugs and tugs Niall upwards to a more comfortable position upon his lap.

“I guess so.” He says, like it’s no real big deal, but something’s up with Niall and he’s wiggling a little, and Zayn _knows_ it means something, like the stars always mean something to Niall and how time fascinates him. They sit there, for just a few moment moments, enjoying the view and Zayn clears his throats.

 

“I guess it would be wonderful.” He answers properly, and Niall seems to stiffen, like he doesn’t want to move and scare Zayn from whatever he’s going to say, “And it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t make it home in time for tea if it was with you.”

“Yeah.” Niall breathes, and it feels like something  _final_.

 

 

vii.

“Niall?” Zayn asked, his fingers tightly wound into Niall’s, and everything felt a little dizzy, like the world was moving faster than they were, and Niall smiled, reaching over to kiss Zayn’s forehead, hands and lips slightly cold.

“It’s okay,” He soothed, “There’s nothing to worry about. It’s a bit wobbly when you’re not used to it. We’re going to be fine.” And although his words were comfort, the accent sliding off his tongue gently, warm and smooth in Zayn’s ears, it had not been what Zayn was going to say, not at all.

“You never missed me, not at all. Not once.” Zayn expanded, letting go of Niall’s hand as they came to a wrenching stop, the neighbourhood around Zayn looking completely different, even if they were only at the end of his street. “All those times I didn’t see you, you never even missed me one little bit.”

 

“Zayn, I – ” Niall started, but Zayn cut him off with a peck to his lips, warmth taking away the excuses that were going to slip through those pink lips.

“You didn’t have the chance to miss me.” Zayn pointed out, “When you stepped out of my life, you walked straight back into it, but yet it took me years to get to the same point as it did for you. I, I’ve never messed around with time. I don’t know how and I just had to  _live_  through it, but you, you walk through it like we just walked down the street. That’s what we just did, wasn’t it? We just stepped through time, and that’s what you’ve been doing this whole time. That’s why you’ve never changed because to you, it’s just the next moment.”

 

“They’re the only moments I wanted to live through.” Niall shrugged, looking small and cute and Zayn wanted to wrap him up in a warm hug, “But, I guess I miscalculated at some points, too.”

“Harry.” Zayn laughed, remembering how opportunely Niall had shown up and affectively ruined that relationship, Niall blushed, and Zayn knew he was right, “Louis.” He added, and Niall’s flush got darker, although from how badly he miscalculated or from Zayn’s teasing tone, he wasn’t sure.

“That wasn’t my fault, entirely,” Niall huffed, “There was only so much time I could steal being with you, without _being_ with you like this; like traveling together, and I kind of used up too much before Louis. So, I couldn’t come back straight away.”

 

“You let me.” Zayn argued, smile upon his face, “Even though you didn’t like it much, you let me because you knew I needed to experience new things, and you knew that I needed to understand how much I love you before whisking me away from everything and dumping me in your world.”  Niall pulled a face, but laughed.

“Maybe.” Niall replied softly, and Zayn leant forwards, reaching out to pull Niall in, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his lips and Niall’s fingers curled up, into Zayn’s hair, the back of Zayn’s neck and held on like he was afraid it would all disappear.

 

They broke apart, lips sticking a little and Zayn pressed his back to Niall’s quickly, and a little rapidly, placing a myriad of kisses all over those pretty pink lips. Panting a little, they pressed their foreheads together, staring gently into each other’s eyes and let the silence of the late night street roll around them for several moments.

 

“Niall?” Zayn asked, tugging the blonde closer again, hands slipping under Niall’s jacket and Niall smiled, kind of like the sun and momentarily Zayn felt blinded.

“Yeah?” Niall asked, back, loosening his fingers a little and letting them play with the little hairs on the back of Zayn’s neck, twisting and turning and fiddling with the collar of Zayn’s denim jacket.

“I do, you know.” Zayn whispered, lips lowering a little towards Niall’s, like he was gravitated to them, like the earth to the sun and like eyes do on a night sky, searching for the stars. “I do love you, and maybe I just realised it for real, but I do.”

 

“I’ve always loved you.” Niall’s voice is as soft as his lips, and there’s that wobbly feeling again, but it’s not time moving around them too fast, it’s the way this feels.  _Perfect._


End file.
